


For Amber Waves of Grain

by GreenApplesInParis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, hetalia usuk, us uk
Genre: Arthur Kirkland - Freeform, F/M, Hetalia, M/M, Multi, USUK - Freeform, UsxUk - Freeform, alfred f jones - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenApplesInParis/pseuds/GreenApplesInParis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was all I ever wanted. For a brief moment, I thought he felt the same. I tried to soar with an Eagle, but was shot of the sky by a little Robin. My query is this; If God is busy blessing America, who's left to save the Queen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
> 
> This is USUK pairing I SWEAR.

Long, too long America,  
Traveling roads all even and peaceful you learn'd from joys and  
prosperity only,  
But now, ah now, to learn from crises of anguish, advancing,  
grappling with direst fate and recoiling not,  
And now to conceive and show to the world what your children  
en-masse really are,  
(For who except myself has yet conceiv'd what your children en-masse  
really are?)

-Walt Whitman

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For Amber Waves of Grain

Prologue

I don't remember the first time I saw him. As far back as I can recall, he's always just been there, right in the forefront of my life. I don't even remember anyone having to explain who this young blonde man was, or why he had more pull then the President. It's like I just knew. He was the embodiment of our country, and he was as beautiful as the land he was named for. Hair the color of sun kissed wheat and eyes as blue as the spacious skies that rolled over his 50 states.  
Now I'm just reminiscing, like his looks have changed at all since then. I'm the one who's aged enough for the both of us. Crows feet around my once big and bright eyes, listless hair that once "shined like the Atlantic", and I'm now so thin that my hip bones jut out at uncomfortable angles.

I realize this is starting to sound like the ramblings of an old woman, but I need to get this down, it's of vital importance that my memoirs survive. I feel that the chain of events that led me, led us, to this current state of affairs is already starting to become blurred and corrupted. That can't happen. I'm only 27 years old and I can feel myself wasting away. My short life has been one selfish mistake after another and this is my last ditch effort to fix it. I'm already getting ahead of myself though (I have a tendency to do that). Let me slow down and start over.

I was born in Glasden, South Carolina on August 18th to John and Elinor White. My father was a Dentist and my mother a house wife. We were your typical, boring, middle class family in a very small, southern town. Since I had the "honor" to be blessed with big brown eyes, pouty lips, and silky hair the color of milk chocolate, pageants seemed to be my destination in life (What else was a Southern Bell to do?)

My older brother was a sergeant in the Army, stationed out of Fort Jackson. I remember my mom crying when he told us he had joined. She claimed we were in Conflict, he claimed it was his duty as an able bodied man. She said she couldn't lose her only son, he promised she wouldn't. She cried at his BCT graduation, and he beamed with pride as he hugged us all, shamelessly posing for my fathers camera. I remember the day he left for Afghanistan, he was so handsome and strong in his uniform. Familiar posters of that blue eyed man, donning the same uniform as my brother, were plastered all over the hanger. His smile was so bright and earnest that, I thought, as long as he was the tie that bound us as a nation, my brother would be safe and heroic. So I kissed him goodbye and told him I'd keep his truck company for him without a single doubt in my mind of his safe return.

9 months later I was driving that same truck in his funeral procession. I was 16 at the time, my worries should have been weather or not my hair would deflate when a tiara placed on my head, not how to eulogize my 20 year old brother. I tore up my notes immediately after, but I recall reciting cliched one liners whilst silently shouting retorts at my own words.

"My brother was a brave man.

He was too young.

He wanted to die for our great nation.

Please give him back.

I'm proud of his sacrifice.

I just lied.

God bless America."

These days, I count this as his first affront against my person. He was the one who was always so handsome on the recruiting posters that hung in every high school from sea to shining sea. Not to mention how charming he was on tv, how could my brother have resisted him when I myself spent hours in my room trying on pageant dresses in front of his pictures? Practicing my piano solos for his posters. Doing my hair and makeup while streaming his interviews and speeches on my laptop. He was probably an even bigger fangirl than I was. I find it a bit Ironic that the one thing we measured our self's against, ultimately brought us to our lowest points.

Although, at that time my poor brother had reached his rock bottom, I hadn't even found a shovel to start digging for mine. Half a year after the government handed my father a beautifully folded flag instead of a healthy son, he indirectly brought tragedy upon my family for a second time. It was a warm summer day when my mother decided to take her own life with my brothers old pistol. She just wasn't strong enough. I watched her waste away until she couldn't take it anymore. Back then, I felt so betrayed, I couldn't even fathom how she could have come to such a resolution. Whereas I could never take my own life, even after all that's happened, I feel I recognize the utter hopelessness she was feeling. I'll never agree with her decision, but I've taken a step to understanding it.

After the funeral, my father found me barricaded in my closet, shaking from heartbreak. I was clutching a blonde plushie in a bomber jacket to my hugged me, told me how sorry he was, and that my beloved mom and brother were happy and at peace with God. All the things he was supposed to say as a father to his young grieving daughter. But then he did something that has stuck in my brain as the turning point in my life. He cupped my face, gave me a sad smile and said,  
"It's just you and me now, Dollface. I know this isn't how your life was supposed to start out, but I swear that I will do everything in my power to make your dreams come true." He pulled the plushie out of my grasp and placed one of my many glittering tiaras on my head. "You'll be the most beautiful Miss America this country has ever seen." I burst into years and threw my arms around him, holding onto both him and my precious plushie, as if they to would leave me like the rest of my family had.

That may have been the dumbest thing I've ever done, but I was young and I knew less then nothing. I great fully accepted my fathers promise with enthusiasm. What I should have done was snatch that stupid children's toy out of his hands and ripped its blond head off its uniformed body. What I should have done was tell him that becoming Miss America was the very last thing I wanted to do. America was the whole reason I had donned my black funeral dress twice in one year. America had promised my impressionable brother 5 gold stars on his lapel but dropped a mortar on his head instead. America drove my mom to the shed in our backyard, my brothers baby blanket in one hand and his 9 ml in the other.  
But back then, my eyes were blinded by facts that just weren't true; My brother was a hero, and my mother a victim. I loved my country, and my lovely face, not my voice, was destined to represent my country.

My name is Virginia Rose, these memoirs tell the true story of how a beautiful blonde immortal stole my innocence, stepped on my heart, and made me into a bitter martyr.


	2. Miss America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
> 
> Thank you so much for stopping by and reading. Feel free to review, I'm always more then open to feedback. Chapter 2 should be up in a week (gonna try my hardest to keep on a weekly schedule). Until then, come hang out on Tumblr with me! I'm revising an old fic which I'll be posting over there. Its all very exciting! (sort of...)

For Amber Waves of Grain

Chapter 1

I had loved Alfred F. Jones before I was even old enough to know what love was. My young eyes drank in his perfect smile and boisterous voice until my naive mind was convinced that the world began and ended with him. I'm not sure I would call it an obsession, I never ran away from home, tracking his every movement nor did I weep hysterically every time he appeared on our television. Nothing quite that dramatic. But my childhood bedroom did evolve over the tragic years of my early life into an odd mixture of Mr. America himself and pageant paraphernalia.

After my mother passed, my number of sashes and tiaras' grew significantly, whereas my number of friends decreased. I spent most of my late teens lost in my own world of gowns and hairspray, makeup and monologues, Stars and Stripes. I don't know if it was how my brain decided to deal with the loss, but after that awful year, my small dream of maybe one day becoming Miss South Carolina was replaced my unbridled need to be Miss America. I was feeling unstable after having two important people ripped from my grasp. I never got a say in any of it. I wanted to take something for myself, and the only thing I ever wanted was to be worthy of his notice. I realize that sounds fucked, but back then, it was all I had to hold onto as the rest of my little world seemed to be falling of its axis.

Putting myself in the forefront of the mind of the people of my great state wasn't easy. My father kept good on his promise, but after a few years even I could see his impatience whenever I handed him my stack of note cards, ready for rapid fire questions about politics, morality, and the future of our nations youth.  
Just as my poor bereaved father came to the end of his frayed rope, North Carolina invaded our modest home in the form of a boisterous damsel in distress named Charlotte. Another beautifully damaged girl, her father was the town drunk and her mother had abandoned them when she was a baby. She was a runaway, but she was really bad at it. To this day, I have no idea how she managed to make it all the way to Glasden, but that's where we found her, dehydrated and passed out on the corner of our street. We took her in, deciding to fix her up and hopefully find this poor child a place to go, but it never happened. As soon as she got her strength back she attached herself to our hearts. Before I knew it, she had moved into my brothers old room and my dad was jokingly blaming me for bringing in another stray, citing all the feral cats that called our garage their home. I saw right through him though, he habitually called her Charlotte from Charlotte and lovingly ruffled her hair.

I'd become smitten as well. Her charmingly loud personality worked with my quiet demeanor, and I soon noticed her interest in all things pageant. She learned how to do hair and makeup in record time and was always ready with a needle and thread to help with any kind of wardrobe disaster. She constantly told me that pageants were her dream as well, and even though she was a bit short and baby fat still clung to her cheeks, I believed her. She'd be better then me one day for the simple reason that, for her, it was all she ever wanted her life to be. She grew up ignored and unwanted while she yearned to be praised and adored. So as she assisted me, and I in return, trained her for the future. For me, this world was just a means to an end, and since she adored me like an older sister, she worked her ass off. A month after my 19th birthday, I had a sash across my chest that read "Miss South Carolina", and we were off to Atlantic City.

The majority of the pageant was a blur of evening gowns, swimsuits, and numb smiles plastered on perfect faces. I recall Miss Iowa sobbing in the bathroom after the talent portion (anything involving fire is just asking for trouble) and Miss Texas slinging twanged insults under her breath at Miss Oklahoma (you'd think that neighbors would get along better). I'd made it to the finals, it was between Miss Washington, Miss Hawaii, and myself.  
I was busy being jealous of the later's natural tan when Charlotte ungraciously jammed a needle into my hip.  
"Ah! Careful where your sticking that thing!" The 16 year old rolled her green eyes, not stopping her work on my gown.  
"Calm your tits, I'm almost done." I placed my hand on my stomach and looked at myself in the vanity mirror. The bright lavender satin hurt my eyes and the bodice cinched my waist uncomfortably. It was perfect. Charlotte noticed my grimace and flashed her own pageant smile at me through the mirror. "That's no face for Miss America to be making!"  
"I haven't won yet." But I instantly changed my face to a more attractive expression anyway, out of pure habit.  
"It's in the bag, and you know it." She responded without lowering her voice at all. Just one of the many reasons why I loved my little adopted sister, she always said what she was thinking. Loudly.  
The commercial break was almost over and then it was back on stage in time for the results, but that wasn't the reason for the butterfly's in my stomach. I had thought my calm and sure demeanor was still intact until Charlotte grabbed my shoulders from behind, as if to steady me.  
"Can you cool it with the constant room scanning? I've got less then 2 minutes to finish stitching you into this couture monstrosity you just had to have." I raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow and feigned ignorance.  
"The dress is exquisite. You did a wonderful job." She gave me a bored look and I sighed. "I wasn't scanning anything." I offered in a weak voice. An evil grin spread across her face.  
"So, if he actually does decide to grace us with his presence, should I be on stand by with contraceptives?" A blush spread to my cheeks as I stammered with disgust. "Dont act all innocent, you know your first order of business as Miss America is to make a sex tape with Mr. America." My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.  
"Charlotte!"  
"Virginia!" She mocked before laughing and finishing her stitches. "Alright, you're ready for action, beautiful." She tapped my hips before moving around to sit in the vanity in front of me. I smoothed the fabric and began checking myself out from different angles, looking for imperfections, as she eyed me curiously.  
"Hey, Virgina?"  
"Yes?" I answered without sparing her a glance.  
"We'll, we've watched all the previous Miss America pageants, right?" I nodded. "Like, all of them. We didn't skip any of the old ones?" My hands faltered for a split second before continuing their tasks.  
"Nope. Not a single one." I smiled, pretending I didn't know where she was alluding to.  
"...I never saw him at any of them." I paused before turning full attention to her.  
"Nope. Not a single one." I repeated.  
"Well then why-"  
"It's a work in progress." She sighed pitifully.  
"That's what you always say."  
"That's because it's always true." I was about to sit but decided against it when I felt the dress tighten ominously. I instead busied myself fixing my hair. "Today is just one day, Char. One day out of an entire year trekking across his country. I'll make it happen." I saw the stage director moving about in my peripheral vision. "All I have to do is get the crown. It's nothing but blue skies after this." I turned and started to walk away, Charlotte was right on my heels.  
"You know, now that I think about it," I spared a glance at her as I continued toward the stage, expecting another pitiful look, but she instead had that demon smile again. "I've never heard any contestant work the name 'Alfred Jones' into every answer of their interview questions. He may already have his dreamy blue eyes on you, Gin." I tripped over my heels and had to steady myself on the wall. Had I really done that? I don't even remember the questions they'd asked.  
"I-I used my rehearsed answers!"  
"You embellished." She winked at me before smacking my behind. "See you on the other side!" And she ran off, leaving me blinking after her in embarrassment. The stage director got to me before I could recover.  
"Time to shine." He looked me over creepily and offered me his arm. I politely declined the gesture as Miss Hawaii sauntered toward us in a festively orange dress. Ignoring the leer from the man, she smiled sweetly and grabbed my hands.  
"You look so beautiful!"  
"Not as beautiful as you." I responded semi-honestly, she had longer legs and obviously a body built for a bikini, but her personality lacked, and my face was my golden ticket, I was untouchable in that department.  
Miss Washington strolled passed, offering a weak smile. There hadn't been a winner from South Carolina since '94, but Washington had never won. Not once. If it weren't for what I felt I had at stake, I would have felt bad. They're both nice girls, if they weren't in my way at the moment, we may have been friends. Maybe.

We quickly set off after her, careful not to fall off our heels as we made out way up the stairs that led to the stage. The crowd cheered as we walked into the blinding lights, the 50 girls that hadn't made it blew us kisses and shouted "Good Luck". I cringed a bit on the inside but brought my hands to my chest in a heartfelt gesture. I scanned the front row and quickly found my dad, he looked tired but beaming with pride. Charlotte had found her way to sit next to him and was practically jumping out of her seat. I winked at them both and let my face relax into a real, genuine smile. Just for them. There's was only 3 things I cared about in the world at that time, and they were the first two. The third was the reason I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. The countdown from a camera man and the MC starting his spiel, however, had little to no effect on me.

There we all stood, in a nice, neat line, all holding hands. The announcer said some lovely things about our long journeys to get to this point, before turning to us and asking how we were feeling, being so close to the end. Hawaii jumped at the chance to speak and I willingly remained silent, nodding in agreement with whatever the hell she said. I figured that if I spoke I'd just name drop again and embarrass myself further. I glanced over my shoulder at the soon to be former Miss America. She seemed like the bubbly, cheerleader type. Blonde haired blue eyed beauty. I was wondering if she'd ever met Alfred during her "reign" when the MC interrupted my thoughts.  
"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for." The crowd died down.  
"Your new Miss America is-"

Silence

"Virginia White, Miss South Carolina!" The crowd roared, my crown was placed on my head, and the wave of relief that went through my body nearly brought me to my knees. I've never been one for hysterics, but as I was handed a bouquet of roses and looked into the crowd to see both Charlotte and my father crying and waving little American flags, I nearly lost my mind.  
Looking back on what was quite literally my crowning moment, I should have enjoyed it for what it was; my own accomplishment. However, when all those beautiful, accomplished women rushed the stage to congratulate me, I couldn't have been less moved. The only thought running through my selfish young mind was "I've got the crown of your nation, now come and find me."


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2

Fighting my way backstage to a newly private dressing room was an ordeal to say the least. I had people crawling all over me, telling me what to do, or where to go next. Finally, I was directed down a hallway and told to wait for further instructions. When I inquired about my family, I just had the same direction repeated. I figured beating my head against a wall would get me nowhere, and I needed a moment of quiet before my brain exploded and sent my new sparkly head piece flying sky high.

The room itself was modest, but had been filled from floor to ceiling with roses. I ran my hands over the soft petals, making my way deeper into the impromptu garden. Out of the corner of my eye I spied a single bouquet of Yellow roses, my favorite. They were settled in a beautiful victorian vase with handed panted daisies all up the side. I was tracing the intricate pattern with my fingers when there was a knock at the door. Since Charlotte would just run right in, I deduced it must be my father. I smiled before turning to the mirror, god forbid Miss America is seen with flat hair.  
"Come in!" The door creaked and I spun around, arm open wide and ready for a family hug. However, instead of my fathers tired and warm brown eyes, I was met with bright youthful blue orbs.

"Man! I had this whole joke worked up, like, I was gonna call you 'Miss Me', or something, but, I guess that not really all that funny and, if you don't mind me saying ma'am, you're a lot prettier then I expected you'd be."  
I nearly fell over dead. I know for fact I didn't breath for at least a minute. My jaw was on the floor, my eyes as wide as saucers, and my arms were still frozen in the hug that had been meant for my father. Needless to say, it wasn't a very dignified look. The atmosphere wasn't anything to write home about either.

There he was, my very reason for being, not 5 feet in front of me, standing tall with his head cocked to the side, as if waiting for a response. Like that was gonna happen, he'd turned my brain to mush. He finally realized my dilemma and took a step toward me. "Not even a curtesy chuckle for my attempted joke?"  
His movement jolted me out of my stupor quite literally. I jumped backwards into the vanity, knocking my crown askew. His eyes widened a little in confusion, and my brain turned on me as I tried to remember the English language.

Say something

"Uh-"

Say something, damnit!

"I'm- you-"

SAY SOMETHING YOU USELESS WASTE OF-

"I'm Virginia. I mean - that's my name - I'm South Carolina - well I'm MISS South Carolina...Not Miss Virginia...or the other one... ya know...West..."

Miss America, ladies and gentlemen. Always poised and articulate. He chuckled as I stumbled through my aneurism and waited for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.  
"I know." He grabbed a rose from one of the copious bouquets "I've always liked the name Virginia." He smiled knowingly and handed the flower to me. "Sorry, I'm pretty unprepared to offer my congratulations." I had thought that was so smooth, even as a thorn pricked my finger. At that point, I finally found my voice (and my brain). This was my chance, everything I had worked for had boiled down to this moment, and I'd be damned if I was going to waste it. I smiled innocently and straightened my crown.  
"Well, if you'd like, you can make it up to me another time. After all, I'll be canvassing your nation for the entirety of this coming year." He stared at me silently until a grin crept onto his perfect face. My intentions with that comment had been pure. His, as I would come to learn, were slightly less so.

If I had been paying any attention, I would have noticed said impure thoughts, but in an instant his gloriously goofy smile was back I was entranced.  
"I'll be sure to do that then." He winked and turned to leave, with my heart falling to the floor.  
"Wait!" He stopped, waiting for the rest of my random outburst, but that's as far as I got. Apparently, I was extremely good at embarrassing myself in front of very important people. Luckily, he noticed my dilemma.  
"Don't worry Ma'am," Cue a salute from him and a silent stroke from me, "I'll be seeing you around real soon." With a turn of the handle, he was gone. I was left alone, shaken, and confused. It wouldn't be the last time he left me as such either, but we'll get to that soon enough. I pivoted to lean against the vanity for support, when I heard another knock, I spun around so fast the room continued to move once I had stopped. I managed to squeak out a 'come in' but I wasn't greeted with another cheesy joke (much to my disappointment), instead I was met with a blur of Chesnutt hair before I was knocked off my feet. I heard seams ripping as Charlotte tackled me into the chair that was luckily right behind me.  
"Ah! Char, the dress!" My attempt so disentangle myself were futile, she merely hugged me tighter.  
"Shut up, who cares about a stupid dress that you don't need anymore. You won!" While she was right, and I never cared about the dress to begin with, I had other things on my mind.  
"Charlotte, did you see him?" She gave me a confused look and opened her mouth to respond when my father finally made an appearance.  
"Damnit Char, you didn't have to sprint!" He looked exhausted, irritated and slightly out of breath. It melted my heart. He was only one out of two men who could do that. Speaking of which...  
"Dad! Did you see him?" I ungraciously pushed Charlotte off my lap and ran to my father.  
"I'm so proud of you, Dollface! You were perfect and beautiful, I knew you would win. You're mother...you're brother... they would've-" I could hear the tears in his voice, so I held my tongue. For a whole minute he just held me tight, I wish I would have been smart enough to know that that was what real love was. Something so simple could have saved us all a lot of pain and trouble.

We pulled apart when Charlottle started to sniffle behind us. He reached out and pulled her into our now loose embrace.  
"Alright, that's enough tears, this is Virginia's moment. Let's enjoy it before all those vultures outside take over." And just like that, my mind was back in overdrive.  
"Holy shit! Did ya'll see him? You had to have, he left right before ya'll came in! Oh, I don't even know what to do right now, I'm positively beside myself!" Charlotte made a face as my usually hidden southern accent came flowing out of my mouth, and my father just shook his head.  
"There's no need to swear." Hypocritically manner minded as always, pa. "Now what are you rambling on about? You look crazed." He wasn't wrong, my eyes were as wide as the Mississippi and my hands were gripped into my once perfect hair.  
"Alfred Jones!" I practically yelled. They looked from me to each other, waiting for the rant about my dream man that usually followed everytime I uttered his name. I let out an exasperated sigh. "He was here!" It was their turn to look surprised. It took them a minute to respond, but when they did it was right on top of eachother.  
Dr. White said "I think you may be a little over tired, hun." While Charlotte, tactful as ever, simple stated "Is your crown on too tight?" I rolled my eyes.  
"He was here, ya'll had to have seen him. He left right before Char charged in her like a lunatic! Charlotte laughed.  
"Mind your accent, Gin."  
"Mind your own, Char." She puffed out her chest and straightened her posture, as if that would somehow cure her own southern drawl.  
"I don't even believe ya'll are fighting right now, of all the stupid-" There was a knock at the door and a woman with a clipboard and a headset poked her head inside.  
"Sorry to interrupt, Miss White, but you've got about 10 minutes until you're first interview." I looked at the stranger incredulously.  
"Already?" She merely nodded.  
"Yep, the media waits for no one, especially not Miss America. You belong to the people now miss, and they're already getting restless." and with that, she was gone.

The three of us were left in stunned silence. Charlotte was the first to move, she grabbed a garment bag from my wardrobe rack and handed it to me.  
"I guess this isn't the end, is it?" She chuckled and I turned to her.  
"I told you, this is just the first step." My father kissed my cheek and headed for the door. "See you on the other side, Dollface." and he was gone.  
"You ready for this shit storm?" She started to help me out of my dress and I shot her a confused look.  
"Shit storm? Nothing but blue skies, remember?" I took my crown off and set it next to the single rose Alfred had handed me. A pedal had already fallen off and as I picked it up, it pricked my finger yet again.

Symbolism never really was my thing.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I believe now is as good a time as any to give you a quick description of my personality. Fist things first, I hate wearing dresses, especially brightly colored synthetic monstrosities. I detest makeup, nail polish, hairspray etc., and large crowds of fake people make me want to punch things made of cement. I prefer solitude, and my skinny jeans, hoodies and high tops are my security blankets. You could surmise that my personality is definitely not suited for the pageants that had become my life. My tenacity and drive are the sole reasons I hadn't lost my mind and assaulted a competitor with my stilettos (or even plotted something so heinous backstage...). That brilliantly bright blonde beacon had left me blind and unprepared for the aftermath of reaching my goal. After any other pageant, I would have returned home to a relatively normal and quiet existence. Miss America was a game changer, that's for sure. We weren't even able to fly home for over a week. My family and I were put up in an expensive hotel, and I was subjected to non stop interviews and public appearances. I remember when they tried to hire me a publicist, citing that I needed an organized assistant to travel with me. Charlotte was appalled, after all she was the one who had gotten me this far, why should she be pushed aside for some uptight stranger? It was an uphill battle, but my psychotic other half was used to far worse and in the end she was begrudgingly handed an itinerary and a cell phone for "official use only".

When we finally made it back to South Carolina, I barely had time to reflect on everything before Charlotte was knocking down my bedroom door yelling something about a press conference in Columbia the next morning.  
"That amazing Elie Tahari dress you bought before the pageant will be perfect." I sighed and rubbed a blister that was forming on my foot (Apparently Miss America wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of converse, even if she was catching the redeye) "You know, that sleeveless red one?" I honestly didn't. Charlotte always did my shopping, I'm pretty sure she thought of me as an oversized doll back then, but I digress.  
"Will it go well with a pair of flats?" The look she gave me suggested that I was quite mistaken in my query. "They're Chanel..."  
"You're in desperate need of some new shoes." She ignored me and started rifling through my shoe rack. I raised an eyebrow and fished my laptop out of my luggage.  
"I've got over 40 pairs of heels, I think I'm alright." She sighed dreamily and held a pair of nude Jimmy Choo's to her chest.  
"Do you remember those beautiful Louboutin's we saw in Atlantic City?" I didn't, but I nodded in the affirmative anyway. "You should have bought them, they would have been perfect for tomorrow."  
"Well, at the time, I just didn't happen to have a spare $1,200 on me." My sarcasm was not lost on her as she made a very unimpressed face. I finally spared a glance in her direction. "Those will work just fine." I turned my attention back to my computer screen as she continued to ramble on about Prada vs. Fendi.

My poor Google engine must have been sick to death of me searching for Alfred Jones, but I needed to make sure I hadn't gone crazy. Our meeting was over a week ago and so brief that I was starting to doubt that It ever occurred. The thought made me sick to my stomach. If he really had been a figment of my tired imagination, then everything I had endured thus far may have been for nothing. That was the first moment I had found for myself (and, if you'll notice, I wasn't even technically alone), so I feverishly began tracking his most recent whereabouts. My heart caught in my throat when I saw a picture of him with the New York elite dated the day after the pageant. That would have been enough proof for me, however, as I went to close my laptop with a stupid grin on my face, I noticed a picture below it, of him giving a rallying speech to our troops in Afghanistan. It was dated for the same day. I was busy questioning my sanity when a shrill voice broke though my haze of depression and self loathing.  
"Oh for Christ sake, Virginia." Charlotte had caught on to my slight disinterest in our "conversation", and made her way to my side to see what had me so distracted. She was neither surprised nor amused.  
"What?" I gently shut my laptop and grabbed one of two pumps she had in her hands. "You're right, these are much better then the Jimmy Choo's" I said as I slid it onto my exhausted feet.  
"Those are the Jimmy Choo's" She stated in a monotone voice.  
"Oh."  
"Yep."  
"Then why are we arguing about them?"  
"We weren't"  
"Oh."  
"We - and by we I mean I - were discussing what to do with your hair tomorrow. But I can see you're busy with your usual unhealthy deranged stalking . I'll just amuse myself with talking to the wall."

I rolled my eyes as I removed the pump and handed it back to her.  
"I know you think you're so witty and hilarious, but you just come off sounding like an insufferable bitch."  
"And you come off as an obsessed psychopath, but hey, why fix it if it ain't broke, am I right?" And just like that, we were back to normal. She placed the pumps under the short red dress that was hanging from the closet door before situating herself in front of my vanity mirror. "Do you really believe you met him?"  
"Yes, I really do." I said with more conviction then I actually had. She slowly nodded, twisting a up a tube of pale pink lipstick.  
"Ok then."  
"Ok then...what?" She pivoted back towards me, a genuine smile on her cherub like face.  
"Ok, then I believe you." I reciprocated her smile.  
"Thanks, Char." She shrugged and went back to messing with my cosmetics.  
"So you met him, he gave you a rose, and saluted you?" I nodded enthusiastically. "Anything else?"  
"Not really, but I think he liked me."  
"Everyone likes you, princess. You've got a halo hovering over your crown." Her tone was mocking but her expression was nothing but adoration. I chose to ignore her.  
"He insinuated that I'd see him again." That got her attention.  
"But that was over a week ago and you haven't heard a peep from him since." I narrowed my eyes a bit.  
"You just said you believed me." She got up to move to a spot on the bed next to me.  
"I do! I just -" She seemed a bit lost for words before she sighed and hugged me around my waist. "I don't want you too get your hopes up so high that if you happen to fall, I wont be able to catch you in time." She snuggled into my side like a toddler. Clearly I had been defeated, so I wrapped my arms around her and sighed.  
"I'll be fine, ok?" She nodded and my gaze drifted out the window to our backyard. In a much lower voice I added, "I always am."

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Far too early the next morning, I found myself standing in front of a podium on the steps of the State House of South Carolina. A crowd of reporters and citizens mingled before me as I stood proud and tall, not a hair out of place (and I'm sure my shoes were just perfect). Governor Nikki Haley stood to the left of me, My father and Charlotte to my right. I angled my face towards the light like a good beauty queen, smiled wide, and took a deep breath before beginning;  
"I would like to start off by saying how very proud I am to be representing our beautiful state as Miss America. It's been an long and hard journey, but I'm so happy to bring in back full circle to my home state before I start my pilgrimage across our great Nation." I smiled in a way that I at least hoped looked sincere, when the crowd suddenly erupted in what I can only describe as hysteria. I tried not to let my confusion show on my face as I quickly re-read the first couple lines on my note cards. I mean, I can write one hell of a moving speech, I'm not gonna lie, but the first two lines hardly warranted such a reaction. I chanced a look at my dad and Charlotte, only to see that they were otherwise engaged. Both had their gaze fixed over my shoulder, my dad looking positively baffled while Charlotte looked like she might faint. I don't know what I expected to see when I turned around, but what I was met with made my heart jump into my throat.

He was back. In all his blonde haired blue eyed glory, practically bounding down the many steps of the white State House, and coming directly for me. My first thought was that this simply just had to be a dream, but as he sidled right up to me with a wide smile on his face and placed one of his large hands on the small of my back, I was never more sure of reality. All I could do was stare at him and listen to my pulse pounding in my ears.  
"Miss White." He winked before turning away. I wasn't aware that I was lost in my own silent world until everything was suddenly far too loud. The crowd was going insane as he shook the Governors hand. She was the most composed out of all of his, she accepted his hand with the gracious smile of a politician.  
"Mr. Jones! I didn't expect to see you here today. This is quite an honor." She gave me a quick once over as a look of contempt flashed across her features. As if I'd done more then just smile and wave to win my crown.  
"No sweat! I just came to properly give the newest Miss America my congratulations." He turned back to me, beaming from ear to ear. I opened my mouth and waited for something (hopefully full sentences in proper English) to tumble out. When he finally realized he had once again left me speechless, he leaned in close, his breath tickling my ear, making me grip the podium for support.  
"Don't worry, gorgeous. I got this one." I blushed furiously and let him gently move me to the side, his hand once again lightly caressing my lower back. I would soon become more then familiar with his misogynistic way of interacting with me. Being pushed aside, but with the utmost care and affection. I wish I could say that I put an end to it immediately, that I realized I was a role model for the young women across America. Sadly I cannot. All I can say for myself is that I never promised you a strong female lead, so don't expect too much more then idle submissiveness.

He began addressing the crown in a booming voice (I don't recall exactly what he said, but I know there was a short period where everyone began chanting "USA!") and I finally turned back to my family. Charlotte's shocked expression hadn't changed, except it was now me she was regarding in utter befuddlement. I smiled at her pointedly and as if on cue, he face was back in pageant form. My dad was a different story, his brows were knitted together and his expression could only be described as insulted. Thankfully, it wasn't aimed at me, but at the stranger who was suddenly so friendly with his daughter, not to mention stealing her moment. When his gaze did shift to me, I tried to smile as wide as my face would allow, hoping the incriminating blush had subsided. His eyes narrowed and he clearly wasn't buying it, so I opted to turn back to Alfred. His sheer confidence in everything he said was nothing short of amazing. The crowd was rallied into a frenzy of American pride and he was clearly in his element. I was lost in a haze of pure 'Alfred' when the sound my own name uttered in his thundering voice brought be back to earth.  
"I think a expedition across my land is more then over due. I want to reconnect with my people! Let you help me get to know the myself again. And when I saw your Miss Virginia White up on that stage, praising me like the hero I am," He winked once again, this time at the crowd, generating quite the response. "I thought to myself, 'Alfred, you're never gonna find a prettier or more qualified traveling companion, so get off your ass and head back to your roots.' So lookout USA, cuz we're about to bust down your door." He gripped my shoulder and smiled brightly for the media cameras that were beginning to swarm the stairs we were stood upon. I think it's safe to say the I was in shock.

I guess Alfred decided that ending on a high note was the best choice of action, so he waved enthusiastically one more time before turning us both around and escorting me up the stairs. My family and the governor were close behind, and once we were safely in side the large marble ceilinged building they all turned on us.  
"I must say, Mr. Jones, that speech was rather unexpected. I had no idea you were planning on accompanying Miss White on her trip." She graced me with another glare while my family finally came to their senses.  
"As far as I know, there was no such thing planned." My father looked between the two of us, clearly not very comfortable with our close proximity. I probably should have been a little wary of it myself, but at that point in time my father and I had staggeringly different opinions on where Mr. Jones placed his hands.  
"Pleasure to meet you, Sir." Alfred moved away from me to stretch his hand out to my father. Not bothering to introduce himself, I think he believed that his revered station as a Nation put such pleasantries beneath him. "I assure you this was a spur of the moment decision. Once I saw your stunning daughter on my television, pouring her heart out about loving my country, I knew I couldn't just sit idly by at let such an opportunity pass me by." I knew he meant for his words to put my suspicious father at ease, but I could tell it had the exact opposite effect. Calling a man's daughter 'stunning' and pawing at her in front of him isn't exactly a way to gain a fathers trust. But he's America himself, he's above such nonsense. Right?

My father opened his mouth for what I can only assume was to be a 'polite' refusal of the strange man's offer, when said stranger decided his business with us was done at the moment. He shook the Governors hand once again.  
"Nikki, always a pleasure. Mr. White-"  
"Dr. White." He begrudgingly extended his hand to the man, expecting an apology, But Alfred just smiled brilliantly before saying;  
"Righteous!" Then his full attention was once again placed on my frazzled self. He gently grabbed my hand and brought it to his mouth, his soft lips grazed my skin, once again sending electricity down my spine.  
"Miss White, always a pleasure." He locked gazes with me and smiled before addressing the rest of the group once more, "I'll be in touch!" And he was off, bounding down the hallway before disappearing through a large Oak door. I was beginning to see that he was a fan of surprise entrances and quick exits, but he had my mind far to wrapped up in other aspects of him to really consider the significance of that little quirk in his personality.

"Did he just completely ignore me?" we all turned to the youngest member of our group, our brains clearly still reeling from the strange turn of events.  
"No offence, love, but I think we all did." My father put his arm around Charlotte, his eyes never leaving me. I opted for turning my attention to the Governor.  
"Thank you for having us, Governor Haley."  
"That was one hell of a press conference!" she shook my hand before extending the same gesture to my father. "I'm sure we'll see you back here at the end of the year." He nodded, clearly not really sure of what else to add to what had become a rather awkward conversation. "Your car is waiting for you out back, right down that hallway." She pointed us in the opposite direction Alfred had gone and took a step backwards, "Good luck of your trip and ya'll have a wonderful day." we waved and parted ways. The only sound to be heard as we made our way down the marble hallway was the sound of my heels clacking against the hard surface. I could feel two sets of eyes boring into my skull as I quickened my pace ahead of me. I didn't dare look behind me until we reached the door. I opened it before placing an innocent smile on my face and turning to face them.  
"I'm starving, let's head to Pawley's since we're in town." I immediately regretted my decision. The looks on their faces did not convey any interest in burgers, or lunch of any kind for that matter. My father sighed and gently grabbed my arm, ushering me all the way out the door.  
"I think we need to go home, Virginia." I shut my mouth and let him lead me to the car.

He was right in his reaction to our little meeting with "The Land of the Free". He had a look on his face that made even Charlotte keep her thoughts to herself. While I settled in for the drive back to Glasden, a heavy silence filling the air, I only had one sentence to describe Alfred's way of dealing with my father.

Balsy as fuck.

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Chapter 2! I'm actually really proud at how this story is coming out. Please R&R!

Also, I know this seems USxOC but I SWEAR its USUK. Give it time, loves.

-Apples 3


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